


Confessional

by toadami



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: Angst, Car Accidents, Catholicism, Modern AU, Suffering, Trauma, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29841417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toadami/pseuds/toadami
Summary: If you like happiness, do yourself a favor and do not read this.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	Confessional

**Author's Note:**

> CW: car crash, blood, death, catholic themes.

Forgive me, Reverend Daughter, for I have sinned. 

It was when I drove us home this past Sunday, after all the rain froze and turned to snow but before it melted about three hours later.

I know we both noticed when we hit the patch of ice. 

I can’t remember what you said. 

Was it “oh my god?” Could it have been “what’s happening?” Or was it just a noise of distress? The last words you ever spake, and I can’t even fucking remember. 

Anyway, you said something, and I knew exactly why, because I could feel it too—the slipping loss of control. The consequences of my immense carelessness. And as helpless as I was, you were in the passenger seat and twice as vulnerable. 

I had my hands on the wheel and I was trying to keep us steady, and then from under my fingers and against my will the car twisted. We were about to hit the guardrail so I committed the second worst sin of my life and I tried to turn the car the other way. 

We didn’t hit the guardrail. No, we slid and skidded down the icy road and I managed to dodge that. But when the tires finally caught their grip, going near the same speed as when we’d first been caught, we were facing not the guardrail, but the opposite side of traffic. 

My descent into hell started with a lurch. 

You were screaming. I remember the sound of your scream, and I have to live knowing that in your last conscious seconds you were scared, and powerless, and it was all my fault. 

I woke up and, as I would find out later from medical staff, watched stupidly as you lay dying. There was nothing I could do. What is the point of a cavalier if not to protect and care for their adept? Well, I failed that mission spectacularly!

Beloved, I didn’t know you were dying, but I knew it was bad—wasn’t sure if you were still alive at all. There was blood pouring down your ears and out of your mouth, so much I was worried you would choke on it. I tried to tilt you to one side so you wouldn’t, but for some reason I could only manage to move your head. Then I got scared that any movement would hurt you, that I had just hurt you with that movement. 

After help arrived, I asked the man in my ambulance if I did the right thing. He looked away and said there wasn’t much that could have been done. You were still alive at that point—they said your heart beat all the way until the hospital before it promptly gave up, and that’s why they wouldn’t release the body to us for three days, that they needed to do an autopsy since you technically died on hospital grounds. 

Apparently it was so bad they couldn’t even donate any of your organs. 

And yet...I walked away. 

They were painful steps, and I think someone was helping me walk, but I could fucking do it. I didn’t break a single bone, or crack a single tooth, or even bite my tongue; and yet. My airbag was defective and it didn’t even go off, and yours did; and yet. We were sitting maybe a foot away from each other; and yet! 

It was my fault; and yet? 

And yet you died. And I lived. 

Where is the justice in that? What shall I do for penance? Tell me, because I am desperate to atone and make it right again. Reverend Daughter, there must be a way. Don’t turn your face from me now, lend me your ear and bless me with your divine command. Wash me thoroughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin. 

What was my greatest sin, you ask? 

…

I am ashamed to say it aloud.

...

Two minutes earlier, when we had rounded our first turn and I was accelerating to try to meet the speed limit, you turned to me and said, “Griddle, don’t you think we’re going a little fast?” 

I did not listen.


End file.
